Albert and Amalia sat quietly as River returned to the house. In that moment, Albert saw it—really saw it. How much River had changed. From the quiet, uncertain boy he had met… to the force of nature standing before him. He no longer slouched as he walked, no longer carried the tension of someone trying not to be noticed. The essence rolling off him was unlike anything Albert had felt: heavy, commanding, ancient. It was like standing beneath a thundercloud just before the storm breaks. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve guessed River was a Tier Five or Six mage. And part of him wondered. What that meant.

  All River wanted was to curl up beside Calira, to feel her steady presence and forget, even briefly, the weight of the visions. But his friends had other plans. The moment he stepped through the door, Amalia and Albert jumped up from the kitchen table, eyes wide with urgency. They pelted him with questions, their voices overlapping, full of worry and anticipation. Reluctantly, River began to explain. He told them about the battlefield. About the War Council. About Sylas — and how he had seen through the god’s eyes. About the shadows rising from the earth. About something ancient waking. Even as the words left his mouth, he knew how insane it sounded. Had he not lived it, he wouldn’t have believed it either.

  But they did. They listened, truly listened, without doubt or hesitation. They believed him. And somehow, that comforted him more than he expected. Albert leaned forward. “So… what now?” River hesitated. There wasn’t a perfect answer. Leaving Varosha would be dangerous. But staying? That would be worse. The shadows were growing stronger. The dungeons are multiplying. Remaining here would put everyone at risk, everyone who had given him shelter, trust, friendship. The first people who’d ever made him feel at home. He couldn’t be the reason Varosha fell. Then Amalia spoke softly. “We should go back to the Kingdom. If we get the king on our side, we’ll have the resources to fight what’s coming.”

  River winced.

  The thought of returning to the Kingdom twisted something in his gut. People still believed he had killed students at the Academy. His name would be whispered with suspicion and fear. But Amalia was right. They couldn’t do this alone. They needed more than just themselves — they needed allies. Influence. Protection. Even if that meant going back to the place that had nearly broken him. And yet, a part of him grieved the idea of leaving. Calira had only just hatched. She belonged in Varosha—under the sun and stars, beside others like her. The Kingdom would be colder. Harsher. Still, it wasn’t really a choice. River nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he said. Then, firmer. He spoke: “We’ll go.” He looked at them both, steadying his voice. “Pack your things. I’ll speak to Kamir and the Elders. We leave at dawn.” He didn’t even stop to greet Calira. There wasn’t time. Not with more people dying because of him. Lud. Callum. Iska. How many more?

  His thoughts flicked to Calira. He couldn’t bear the idea of losing her. She already felt like a part of him — not something separate, but an extension of his soul. He couldn’t afford to dwell on it — not now. River climbed the hill toward Kamir’s home. He knocked once, then stepped inside without waiting. Kamir turned, surprised, but one look at River’s face told him everything.

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  “What is it?” he asked. River took a breath. “We have to leave. What I saw… it wasn’t good.” He didn’t explain further. He couldn’t. Kamir didn’t push. He nodded once, turned, and pulled something from a shelf—a worn book, deep purple with golden script across the cover.

  The Line of the Primordials.

  “It’s a record,” Kamir said. “Of every known Primordial birth and death. If there are answers out there… this is where you’ll start.” River paused. Maybe this book held the truth about his parents. His origin. But there wasn’t time to open it now. “Thank you,” River said, tucking the book into his pack. “For everything.” Kamir gave a small nod. That was all. River turned and hurried off into the dark.

  Next: Myra.

  He’d never been to her house, but he knew where it was — on the edge of the city, built wide for the massive dragon she called companion. Her home was large, rectangular, practical — no ornate Kingdom architecture, just solid stone and sand-colored walls like the rest of Varosha.

  He approached and knocked.

  “Myra. It’s River.”

  He wouldn’t barge in. Not with Myra. The door opened. The elder stood there, her expression unreadable. “I know,” she said before he could speak. River blinked. “You… know?” She nodded toward the shed beside her home. “Buteos sensed it.” Of course. The dragon. He stepped forward to offer a hand, but she surprised him, stepping into a hug instead. Frail arms wrapped around his waist. Warmth. Gratitude. Care. He froze. His breath stuck in his throat. And suddenly it hurt more than he expected. This city… these people… they had become his family. That’s why they had to leave. He pulled away gently, before he could second-guess the decision. He walked back to the house beneath a moonlit sky.

  Around him, the world was calm — no sign of the chaos that roared within. The night was still. The stars burned bright. Inside, Amalia and Albert were already standing, bags packed. As if they expected to leave tonight. “You can relax,” River said with a soft smile. “We leave in the morning.” They nodded, grumbled a little, but didn’t argue. They headed to bed, their bonded curling beside them. River watched them quietly. The sight flared something inside him. He didn’t need sleep. Instead, he bent down and picked up Calira, who had been pecking gently at his boots. She chirped once, small wings fluttering. He carried her to the couch, picked up one of Kamir’s woven blankets, and stepped outside. At the edge of town, he lay down in the sand, his usual spot beneath the stars. He placed Calira on his chest, tucked under the blanket. She was asleep in seconds. River watched the sky. A full moon. Clear night. Cool breeze.

  Perfect.

  But it wouldn’t last.

  Questions still swirled in his mind—answers he needed to chase.

  The Council.

  The visions.

  His mother.

  Whatever was loose in the world now.

  One thing was certain: danger lay ahead. River chuckled to himself.

  The Council might very well throw him into a prison cell—assuming they didn’t kill him first.

  But they had changed.

  They had hardened.

  Even if it wasn’t what Alerus had wanted.

  This time, they wouldn’t run.

  This time, they would rise.